Slow Arts
by Mouse
Summary: "... all those of the Quendi who came in the hands of Melkor, ere Utumno was broken, were put there in prison, and by slow arts of cruelty were corrupted and enslaved..." An inside look at the making of the first Orc. Not violent; just ... strange.
1. I.

  
  
| Disclaimer: Melkor and his cruelty belong to Prof. Tolkien ... I stake no claims ... well, maybe on this poor Elfy ... |  
  
  
**| Slow Arts |**  
  
  
**I.**  
  
  
We are the Quendi.  
  
We are the Speakers, the first beings to talk, to sing.  
  
We are the first who were given Voice, and with it the purpose to give name to all that is in Arda.  
  
I am a Quendi, a Speaker.  
  
I name myself Lindo.  
  
I do not remember why.  
  
I am alone.  
  
Yet I am not alone.  
  
I do not know the name of the Thing that speaks to me.  
  
For a long time there was nothing but me.  
  
Then the Thing came.  
  
The Thing whispers to me-- or is it my own thought?  
  
Am I the Thing?  
  
It names that which is around me-- _burzum_.  
  
There are no stars in burzum.  
  
There is nothing.  
  
But I am here.  
  
Am I burzum?  
  
There is another Thing in the burzum now.  
  
It is named _ghâsh_.  
  
I fear the ghâsh.  
  
I smell It first.   
  
Then I feel It, beneath me.  
  
Then I see It.  
  
The ghâsh is not burzum.  
  
Yet burzum is nothing, so there is no burzum.  
  
The ghâsh is a Thing, like me.  
  
Me?  
  
What am I?  
  
I am Lindo.  
  
I remember now.  
  
I am a Quendi, a Speaker.  
  
I name myself Lindo.  
  
I am in burzum.  
  
I do not see the ghâsh anymore.  
  
Perhaps It is gone.  
  
But I still feel It.  
  
So perhaps It is not a Thing either.  
  
The Thing is whispering again.  
  
It tells me a new name, a name for the feeling, for the ghâsh-that-is-not-there.  
  
_Pain._  
  
_


	2. II.

**| Slow Arts |**  
  
**  
II.**  
  
  
There are many Things in the burzum now.  
  
I know they are Things, for I feel them.  
  
But they do not speak.  
  
They are not Speakers.  
  
I am a Speaker.  
  
I name myself ...  
  
I do not remember.  
  
The Thing tells me of the other Things.  
  
It names them _urukî_.  
  
Why do I not have a name?  
  
Yes, I do.  
  
I am burzum.  
  
No, I am a Thing.  
  
There are no stars in Burzum.  
  
Burzum is nothing.  
  
I am Pain.  
  
No, pain is the ghâsh, the ghâsh-that-is-me.  
  
The urukî cause much pain.  
  
The urukî do not speak to me.  
  
The Thing does.  
  
It tells me my name.  
  
I have a name!  
  
I am a Speaker.  
  
My name is _Dug_.  
  
_


	3. III.

**| Slow Arts |  
  
  
III.  
  
  
**There are no Things now.  
  
Only burzum.  
  
No, I am here.  
  
And I am not burzum, for I feel, I feel ... pain.  
  
I am a Thing.  
  
Am I ghâsh?  
  
But ghâsh can be seen.  
  
Am I urukî?  
  
Some of them could not be seen, though I felt them.  
  
I remember now!  
  
I am a Speaker.  
  
I name ...  
  
No! I do not name. The Thing names.  
  
Where is the Thing?  
  
I wish It would tell me my name, for I have forgotten it.  
  
Ah! The Thing is in the burzum!  
  
It is not burzum anymore.  
  
I ask, and the Thing tells me my name.  
  
I am a Speaker.  
  
I name myself--  
  
No.  
  
I am a Speaker.  
  
I am named _Snaga_.  
  
I am in burzum.  
  
I feel pain.  
  
_


	4. IV.

**| Slow Arts |  
  
  
IV.  
**  
  
The Thing is showing me Another.  
  
It is not urukî.  
  
It is not ghâsh.  
  
But to see It gives me a feeling.  
  
The feeling is not Pain.  
  
It is somewhere else inside of me.  
  
It is ghâsh-without-pain.  
  
It is ...  
  
I do not remember the word.  
  
I ask the Thing if the Other has a name.  
  
The Thing says It does not, and I am sorry for It.  
  
The Thing tells me I may name It.  
  
I cannot think of a name.  
  
Now I remember!  
  
I remember ... what?  
  
I name It _Lindo_.  
  
I do not know why.  
  
Lindo is a Thing, and I am glad.  
  
When there are Things, there is no burzum.  
  
There is pain.  
  
But no burzum.  
  
I ask what my name is, for I have forgotten.  
  
The Thing tells me my name.  
  
_Urukî_.  
  
Then the Thing leaves.  
  
There is only me and the Other now.  
  
The Other is a Thing.  
  
The Other is Lindo.  
  
I wish I had a name.  
  
I remember now!  
  
I do!  
  
I am urukî.  
  
I know what urukî do.  
  
They bring Pain to Things.  
  
_


	5. V.

**| Slow Arts |  
  
  
V.**  
  
  
The Other is gone.  
  
The Things are not here.  
  
Only burzum.  
  
And me.  
  
I am not burzum.  
  
I wish there was Another.  
  
I wish there was the ghâsh-without-pain feeling.  
  
I even wish for ghâsh.  
  
I even wish for pain.  
  
I do not wish for burzum.  
  
In burzum, there are no ...  
  
What?  
  
Things.  
  
In burzum there are no Things.  
  
There is nothing.  
  
The Thing! The Thing has come!  
  
Oh, I am glad for the pain.  
  
I ask the Thing if it has a name.  
  
The Thing says that it does, but I cannot know it yet.  
  
The Thing says it will tell me my name.  
  
I am confused, for I thought I knew my name.  
  
I am a ...  
  
I am named ...  
  
Ghâsh. I smell ghâsh.  
  
I am afraid.  
  
The Thing laughs, and says that it knows my name.  
  
I feel the ghâsh.  
  
I feel the pain.  
  
At least there is no burzum.  
  
I ask the Thing for my name.  
  
The Thing tells me.  
  
Ah, yes.  
  
I am from _burzum_.  
  
I am of _ghâsh_.  
  
I am in pain.  
  
I am named Orc.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**The Beginning ...**


	6. Glossary and Author's Note

**  
**

~| Black Speech Glossary |~  


  
  
burzum = "darkness"**  
  
  
ghâsh = **"fire"**  
  
  
urukî = **"horrors" (e.g., Balrogs & other demons)**  
  
  
dug = **"filth"**  
  
  
snaga = **"slave"**  
  
  
  
  
  
| Author's Note |  
  
  
**I originally intended to write a graphically violent torture-fic ... instead this just came out. I'm a little unsure about it. Especially since I started writing it at about 2 in the morning. It is now 5 in the morning.  
  
The Thing, obviously, is Melkor. The Other, aka Lindo #2, is another captured Elf, who is presumably killed by Lindo #1. It's written in a very confusing fashion, I know, but this is somebody's brain we're listening to ...  
  
I hope you're at least slightly disturbed. I've never really written anything like this before.  
  
Oh, and don't worry about Lindo. He's a very happy little Orc now. I feed him Elfies that I don't like. ^_^**  
**


End file.
